


Q, no A

by filenotch



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-15
Updated: 2015-05-15
Packaged: 2018-03-30 16:15:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3943255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/filenotch/pseuds/filenotch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From when I originally posted this in the 1990s: "Despite not being given much to do, sometimes Robert Beltran lets the guy who beamed onto Voyager's bridge with phaser at the ready flash through that controlled exterior. The writers have clearly forgotten what Chakotay is about, but not everyone has."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Q, no A

Chakotay looked out the viewport, not thinking, simply watching the stars, sometimes closing his eyes for long minutes.

Had he kept his eyes open he would have noticed the brief flash. As it was, the first he knew of his visitor was the insinuating tenor voice.

“What’s the problem, Chuckles?”

Q. Great spirits, why Q? He could see the reflection of the figure behind him in the viewport's glass, and the entity seemed to have changed his usual costume. Chakotay couldn’t quite tell what it was Q wore, but it wasn’t a Starfleet uniform. He didn’t turn when he finally answered.

“There’s no problem. What do you want?”

“Why do I always have to want something?”

The petulance in the voice was familiar, and so was the condescension as it continued, “What could you possibly have that I would want?”

It helped to think of Q as Coyote; Coyote could be caught out. “There must be something, or you wouldn’t be here. Or did Kathryn throw you out of her ready room?” Chakotay let himself smile slightly, sardonically.

“Hmmm. I haven’t visited your captain in a while. She’s not much fun any more. Jean-Luc has that same adherence to Starfleet principles --” Q dragged the words out. “But somehow he’s much more engaging. Your Janeway hasn’t got the...” The entity trailed off.

Chakotay guessed at the missing word. “Balls?” he asked over his shoulder.

“Oh, no, Chuckles.” The voice was thick with amusement. “She’s got balls. Yours, to be precise.”

It should have stung, or made him angry, or even been funny. The statement did none of these things; Q had a point.

“Tell me something, Chuckles. If I granted you your heart’s desire, what would it be? Think of anything future, not fixing anything past. Saving Dorvan V would be just too obvious.”

Chakotay drew breath. That had indeed been the first thing to spring to mind. He said the second thing. “To be teaching at the academy.”

“Anthropology, right?”

Chakotay nodded, his gaze somewhere between the stars outside the viewport and the reflection of Q on the glass.

“That’s the most preposterous thing I’ve ever heard!”

The disgust in the entity’s voice made Chakotay finally turn. Q was dressed in shaman’s garb, his hair long, and his features familliar but stretched in red-brown over a slightly Indian form. His manner and voice, though, had all the dramatic flair of a typical Q encounter.

Chakotay controlled his voice. “Why is that preposterous?”

Q’s voice was hard. “When you resigned from Starfleet to join the Maquis you were an instructor in advanced tactics. You were much more concerned with obliterating people than studying their social structure.” The harshness took on derision. “You’ve played armchair anthropologist and done some reading in your free time.” The last two words were again stretched, then followed by a rude noise. “Whatever makes you think they’ll let you teach?

"Wait, I’ve got it! It'll be a lightweight course to pad out the schedule with an easy grade, taught by a returned reprobate gone soft who needs a nice, safe stable where he can reminisce about the old days in the delta quadrant in front of a captive audience.” Q shook his head. “You’re not that stupid, Chuckles.” He paused, and cocked his head slightly, the penetrating gaze sweeping Chakotay from head to foot and back again. “Or maybe you are.”

For some reason, this was what what finally hurt -- that Q knew something about him he hadn’t known himself, something that made him look small and stupid.

“So that’s why you’re here?” Hurt came out as angry sarcasm. “Just to point out my human frailties? I’d have thought that beneath you.”

Q smiled, white teeth splitting the tanned face, and Chakotay could almost see tongue-lolling canine features. Coyote.

“If you’d ended up as captain of this vessel, you’d still have your cojones, and you’d be a lot more interesting than Miss Kathy. I was just stopping in to see whether you were still as boring as you’d let yourself become.”

Q disappeared in a flash, leaving Chakotay to turn back to the window, watching stars streak by at light-seconds, brooding. This time he kept his eyes open, saw the flare of light when Q returned. He glanced over his shoulder to find the entity costumed like a cowboy in one of those stupid Ancient West holonovels.

“So, pardner, did I put a burr under your saddle?”

Chakotay could only smirk and snort a single laugh.

There was a final flash behind him and a smug and satisfied voice in his ear.

“Good.”


End file.
